The Succubus

Another older one; written Autumn of 2006

She took the coals that kept me warm
And left me diamonds—purer form, but cold as ice.
My heavy lips confess mistakes,
But cannot formulate regret;
They're part of me, and to  forget what I have been
Would be... to lie,
To cast these diamonds in this sty.

I weep, sometimes, in memory of fallenness and sin
And how we lost can be regained,
But also lost again.
But sometimes, when I'm honest,
I see You in the rain
And taste a bead of Mercy
And lose myself again.

Take the coffee, take this wine,
Take my cigarettes!
They never gave me anything
I ever needed yet.
Whisper to me of this Love
I never quite concede;
But know exists.

I wrote a tragedy so large she never saw my face,
But always looked around my work
To "put me in my place."
And even though I scratch the Truth
With ink-stained hand and pen,
I know that I have but to knock
And You will let me in.

Juvenalia can get boring, but I’ll run out of it pretty soon, so this is a good time to